#when the next storm comes I'll do what I've always done || threads

[aspenxbarros]

Mellark Bakery || Some time after the 74th Games || With Peeta @subsiist

Tiredness was far from a foreign feeling for her. It was an almost eternal companion to her, some days it felt as though it had gotten so comfortable that it seemed to settle into her bones. But she'd long since learnt to push past the ache of her heavy limbs and keep herself moving enough that they didn't weigh her down enough to bring her to a stop. She always had too much to get done for any kind of pause to be an option. That afternoon it was running errands for those of her neighbours that were too infirm to do it for themselves and after finishing her shift later than planned she found herself quite literally running to make it to the bakery before it closed. When she arrives at the door there's a relief to see that she made it with just enough time to spare. Aspen allows herself a moment to collect herself, taking a few deep breaths to slow her breathing before entering, pulling the door gently closed behind her.

A sigh threatens to slip from her lips when she realised which Mellark is stood behind the counter. It was unfair of her to be disappointed when she knew better than to expect it to be Cael. But the appearance of the youngest Mellark meant small talk and on a day where her mind was foggy with tiredness and her tongue almost felt leaden with exhaustion, she couldn't think of anything worse. The lips that she had pressed together to cage the sigh behind them turn up into a small smile when she had no desire to let her weariness colour their interaction for the worst. "Sorry, I know I'm cutting it a bit close." Tone is apologetic as she takes soft but sure steps closer to the counter. "Could I get eighteen loaves, please?" It was more than she technically needed but she was certain that there would be more that could use some bread than just those who had asked. Pulling out the money she'd been given by her neighbours she double checks whether she had enough, after a moment of private sums she reached into her pocket once more to add enough of her own to make up what's needed.

Another glance to the coins in her hand and another decision is made. It was a five year old's birthday and she wanted to ensure that the day was marked in some small way. "And how much is your smallest cake?"

[aspenxbarros]

It was almost strange to think that if their lives in Twelve had remained unaltered that the pair of them would have had very little cause to talk. Even with their individual connections to a Mellark, it was hardly enough to bridge the gap that naturally formed between Seam and town. Aspen had never been someone who had dwelt on the differences between the two, preferring to focus on what she did have than what she didn't and what she could do rather than what she couldn't. But now those differences mattered even less when they were suddenly all the same - just survivors.

She had chosen not to look too much at her home during the walk from the mine to the woods but she knew that there was so little left for them all. All that remained were the people and Aspen was determined to hold onto them all as tightly as she could. "I'm glad to see you too." Whether or not she and Delly had been close before didn't seem to matter as much now, not when they at least still had the time to get to know one another when so many others didn't.

There's a pause as she searches for what to say next, struggling to find the perfect balance of words that might give comfort and reassurance. "I've yet to find a good crying spot." The words are said with a quick, wry smile as she hopes that the admission that she'd been just as emotional might make the younger woman feel slightly better.

"That's right, and you're Peeta's?" At the mention of the other Mellark's name she's reminded that while she had her friend with her in Thirteen, making the whole thing slightly more bearable, Delly's is still so far away from her. Although Aspen was certain she'd be a poor substitute for Peeta - she knew all too well that there was no real replacement for a bond that had been built through years of closeness - she couldn't help but offer her own company just in case it might help. "Do you mind if I join you for a bit? I actually came to look for Cael but I wouldn't mind a change."

It took her a few moments to be able to place the other woman. It had only been a few days in Thirteen, and seeing the faces that she had grown up around in Twelve outside of Twelve was strange. They were all dressed differently and in adifferent setting made it hard to place people. Add to it that most of the people that had survived were from the Seam rather than the town meant Delly was seeing more people that she recognized but couldn't place.

But after a moment it hit her. The woman's name was Aspen. She was a friend of Cael's, she remembered. Delly couldn't remember ever being left alone with Aspen but they had been in the same place over the years. The thing that linked them was the Mellarks. Delly grew up in the town, while Aspen was from the Seam, but none of that mattered here. Delly was genuinely glad to see Aspen. It was so hard to learn of all of the people that had been lost in the bombing. The list went on and on, and Delly was just grateful to see more people from home.

"No, it's okay, really," She said, forcing herself to focus on her breathing. The tears stopped, and she was relieved. While nobody could probably blame her for crying, it just felt...strange. She didn't want to cry in front of a practical stranger.

She nodded her head. "Yeah. You're Aspen, Cael's friend?" She asked, even though she was sure that that was who she was talking to. "I'm glad to see you."

[amuseoffyre]

Hi - asking questions 2, 8 and 27 from the fic writer's list. Love your work 😍

Thank you :D I'll try and rein my answers in, but we'll see how successful I am XD

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Planning happens very, very rarely. I tend to write with a very loose idea of what's going to happen. This doesn't just apply to chapters but to entire fics. Sometimes I go in knowing maybe 2-3 specific scenes/moments and the rest of it is all just optimistic keysmashing, hoping my hindbrain will Do The Thing and make it work.

On the rare occasions where I do plan, it's when I have the whole story dropped in my brain in one go. That said, my version of a plan is usually 3 bulletpoints of things I need to happen. A good example of this was when I was working on Bark and Bite and it was the first full moon chapter. My outline was: Ed hears Stede go crunchy, Ed thinks the wolf ate Stede, Benny-Hill-sequence around the ship, FRIENDSHIP. So, as you can see, I take it super serious 🤣

oooh, but on that note, let me show you the planning I did for my original writing, because writing time travel - especially multi-timeline time travel - was a hell of a thing. I had to break it down by day, character and chapter to keep track of who was where/when since I needed it to work within the rules of time travel that I had within the story. This was for one book. The next book was so much worse. I had to resort to colour-coding.

As you can see, it got pretty specific.

8. Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

I haaaaate endings. I hate trying to find a way to tie up everything in a way that doesn't sound twee or silly or cliche. Don't really have a preference for beginnings or middles because I enjoy the journey, but me and endings are old enemies. Plus there's that whole ADHD thing of getting 75% done, knowing how it ends, and then having to fight my own brain to finish anything.

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

I think the least favourite part is the finishing, as mentioned above. It's so hard.

But my favourite things are two-fold and they dovetail into one another so nicely:

when I write something into the story and I don't know why I've written it into the story, but I just look at it and I know "you are important". I don't know why. I don't know when it'll be significant, but I feel this deep sense of Rightness that this is essential and important and it has to be there. It could be something as trivial as a picture-frame or a certain book. It might be a fly-by one-liner that seems like a joke in passing, but when I look at it, it's like a hook in the middle of my chest and I know YES. THIS.

the second part of this is when I get to the reveal of why that thing is important. It's like that mindblown gif, because so often it's something so small and insignificant, I don't even realise that it's a single thread of a tapestry I've been weaving and suddenly, the story would have made no sense without it. It doesn't seem relevant but suddenly it's there and it's integral and I frequently find myself clutching my face and going 👀 because I never ever see it coming until it happens.

A perfect example of this is my Turning Tides/Storm Surge combination. Turning Tides started life as a series of one-shots that escalated into a full series and there was stuff I put in #1 that I went "I feel like this seems relevant..." and it was only when I read back after finishing Storm Surge I realised I had foreshadowed huge lumps of the Storm Surge arc. I didn't even notice but my hindbrain is always whirring away like a coked-up hamster in a wheel. It comes up with plot twists that make me yell, so I can only imagine how my readers react :D My old flatmate used to come and check on me when I was flailing too loudly over Surprise Plot Twist 17 that I wrote but didn't see coming 🤣

[omgkalyppso]

👾👾👾

Thank you for the ask!

Send me a 👾 and I’ll give you a random song off of an OC / Blorbo playlist with an explanation!

Oh, I'll go with one of my Dimitri playlists for you! (:

My men can not get out of being pulled in to the earth I've been done here, only time keeps me from the demiurge My self can not get out of being pulled in to the earth While we do next to next to nothing, we have always been the scourge

Come kill me, I seem, so alone Come kill me, I seem, so alone Come kill me, I seem, so alone

I found four websites with different lyrics for this song. Apparently no one can agree on what dude's saying so I'm defaulting to what I hear.

So pre-Gronter, post-timeskip AM/VW Dimitri feelings. A loss of faith, depression associated with deaths he's witnessed, a challenge and a plea to those around him for an end: to fighting, to loneliness, to being perceived as a villain.

I know my actions, they may get confusing But my unstable ways is my solution to even space That's why you wanna come out and play with me, yeah

Stooped down and out You got me beggin for thread To sew this hole up that you ripped in my head Stupidly think you had it under control Strapped down to something that you don't understand Don't know what you were getting yourself into You should have known Secretly, I think you knew (Secretly I think you knew)

Sorry for having a song about a hole in the head on a playlist for a character who loses an eye. I think the lyrics of this song fit Dimitri from Remire thought to post-skip but apply Especially to the time between Byleth's fall and Rufus' assassination / Dedue's (perceived?) loss. He would be so vengeful. He would be so buzzing with rage, and easy to provoke, but not yet without faith in those around him or strategic approach to war.

You've haunted me all my life Through endless days and countless nights There was a storm when I was just a kid Stripped the last code of innocence

You've haunted me all my life You're always out of reach when I'm in pursuit Long winded then suddenly mute And there's a flaw in my heart's design For I keep trying to make you mine

I like both approaches to Dimitri's ghosts: supernatural or psychological. Whether you think of all-his-life as starting at Duscur, or earlier, with his birth mother, I am so sad when I think of all that Dimitri goes through.

[rinstars]

OATH.

PAIRING: Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Angst.

WC: 1.3k+

TAGS/WARNINGS: Hurt/Comfort (or maybe not). Suggestive themes. Profanity. Cursing. Slight use of petnames.

SYNOPSIS: Suna Rintarou never break a promise. Especially not to you.

NOTE: A famous Filipino song came on shuffle and prompted the birth of this fic. Can you guess which one?  HINT: It's a pretty old famous love song lmfaooo. Also again, I didn't proofread, deal with it hehe. REBLOGS are appreciated <3

LASTLY, PLEASE HELP ME DECIDE ON WHAT TO WRITE BY ANSWERING THIS FORM HEHE THANK U SO MUCH!!

He sent you a text message fifteen minutes ago. Nothing but a few simple words that somehow weighs you down every single time—like an anchor tied to your ankles and tossed to the ocean. Something that leaves you gasping for air. But you enjoy the cool breeze anyways.

I'm coming over.

Promises meant a lot to Suna. Even if the words weren't outwardly said, he treats the phrase like an unspoken promise between both of you. He always comes when he tells you he will. A little late, a little early, but never not.  And you wait for him. Over and over—in the raging storms, the summer breeze, the winter cold. At the break of dawn, the setting sun, beneath the midnight moon.

Because it was your side of the promise.

I'll be here.

The knocks on your door grow heavier each time. The longer you take to open the door the more you feel the constricting pain choking the life out of you. You drag your feet to the wooden entrance, fingers never getting used to the way the cold steel of the knob makes you want to cry. The ray of light that peeks from the small opening of the door blinds you—God, does it blind you, yet you open it wider. Welcoming the burn as he hastily pushes the door open.

You wish you were able to hide the flinch when he wrapped an arm around your wrist, pulling you closer to him as he buries a pale face down your neck. He probably didn't notice the shake from your body—seeing as he was shaking just as bad. The wetness on his shoulders going unnoticed as his own tears stain yours.

With a small tug, you are beneath him. On the other side of his endless praises, his sweet, sweet words. He kisses you like he's drowning as much as you and you let him. His fingers were no longer shaking when he pulls your underwear down, or at least tries to.

"Rin," you breathe out, pushing against his chest to get him off of you. "Will you talk to me first?"

He looks in your eye, unblinking, unmoving—and you could've sworn you were able to glimpse at the internal debate going on inside his mind. He hovers over you for a few more minutes before completely sitting straight with a sigh, nodding to himself as he offers a hand to you.

You take it, and you hold tight, and if you were given the gift to do what you wanted, Heaven knows you wouldn't have let go.

He notices, and he knows it. He has known for the longest time. Knows how this affects you—how you feel, how you hurt. So, he smiles at you and lets you hold on for as long as today's conversation permits.

"I just, fuck-- I don't know what to do." He swallows thickly, like he's holding back the tears from spilling. "I swear—shit do I fucking swear, that I try, I really try, yeah?"

"I know, Rin," you squeeze his hands a little tighter, thumb running over his knuckles as a poor attempt in comforting. "But sometimes, things just don't work out the way we want it to. You know that."

His eyes look over to you, the gentle smile on your face laced with something he would rather not think about too much. He thinks you're right—you're always right. He couldn't remember a time when you were wrong.

"Then," he crawls over to you slowly, fingers trailing a path from your temples to your jaw before settling there and tugging your bottom lip—a silent request from his breaking heart.

Closing your eyes, you released a shaky breath before slowly opening them and continuing with your constant reject. "Then let's stop doing this. I just—you know this isn't right, Rin."

It's almost like something clicked in him the moment you said that. The fog in his eyes clearing as the hand holding your jaw drops to his side. You ignore the pain building up your chest, the sensation almost numbing, as you wait for him to agree. He will, you thought. He always listens to you.

"Yeah, yeah," He almost chuckles humorlessly, throwing his head back on the couch. "Bet she really wouldn't take me back if she found out I run over to you again, right?"

Turning your head to the side, you hope you blinked the tears fast enough for him to not see. Of course, it's her. It has always been her. He never really calls you when he's not going through another rough patch with his girlfriend, never meets up unless he wants to find solace between your legs, never really smiles at you that often

"Rin, we—" you bite your lip to prevent it from shaking, tightening your hold on his fingers to hide the tremble. "We need to stop doing this. She loves you, and—God, do I know how much you love her."

He smiles at nothing, like a fond memory is replaying in his head, the next few syllables breaking you more than you think it should. "Yeah, I do."

This time, you decide to finally show your tears, enough pretending as you prepare yourself for what's about to come. "S-suna, I really—you see, I loved being with you. I adore you and you're probably someone I'd never be able to forget ever, you know?"

He turns his body as he faces you, the hairs falling on his forehead too irresistible for you to not fix. He eyes you with a mix of confusion and recognition—like he knows where this is going but needs you to say it for him.

"Me too, princess."

"I've been meaning to say goodbye a few months ago," you sniffed, looking down on your lap as you lose all the strength to stare back at the eyes you've grown to love. "But I thought maybe I'll let another winter pass. I know how much you break in this weather."

He laughs with you at that—the humor lost in the sea of regret and pain, eyes glossing over but he didn't understand why. Maybe you meant a lot more to him that he cares to admit. And he isn't sure what to do with it, doesn't recognize it clear enough to come up with a course of action.

"I love you, Rin."

Snapping him out of his thoughts, you could notice the faint flinch on his fingers. Hearing you choke up the words like this, vulnerable and broken in front of him, almost made him want to be irrational again. How do you break someone who's done nothing but mend you?

He has known for the longest time. The suspicion always lingering on the back of his head and yet hearing you say it doesn't compare to the amount of times he's run the scenario up his head, finding the right way to respond.

"I know."

"And it's hurting me so, so bad." The cracks in your voice almost mirroring the ones in your heart, hand flying up to your face like you wanted nothing more than to hide. The pain, the tears, the love.

"I know, princess." He repeats, hands tugging yours so you can hide your face on his neck, sobbing onto him the way he's always done with you. He keeps your head there—partly because he knows showing his own tears will just make this harder. "You take care, yeah? Love someone who really deserves it next time."

"I'm not—I w-won't be here next time, Rin. Sorry for breaking my promise."

"In the next life, princess," He kisses your temple, threading long fingers through your hair, a shaky voice accompanying his next words. "I'll come over to you."

[aspenxbarros]

There's a small chuckle at his words but it lacks the lightness that her laughter would usually have. Still, she's grateful for even the smallest of reasons to smile these days. "I'll bear that in mind for the next time I need a good cry." Her tone is still light, choosing to ignore that fact that she didn't exactly need something to trigger tears at the moment. Just the thought of Twelve and the home she'd lost was enough to bring them on whenever she wanted, though it was something she'd been resisting as much as possible. Expression shifted to one of curiosity at the mention of the kitchens, though she refrains from peppering him with questions about it for now. "I'm not sure I envy you that assignment, it seems like it could be a thankless task. I think one of my friends has ended up there too."

Pity was something she had never wanted to feel aimed at her but this isn't what he's offering. There's a sincerity to his words and it's met with genuine emotion from her too. "Thank you." Smile is genuine but flickers over her features, not quite reaching her eyes. His kindness is appreciated, sparking a new bit of hope within her as she takes comfort in knowing that the backdrop of a rebellion hadn't robbed them all of their care for each other. She was no soldier or tactician but she couldn't help but feel as though the only way that they would be able to get through whatever to come in one piece was to hold on tightly the the most human parts of themselves. "I'm hoping to be of some use with the technology side of things. I'm not sure how much use I'll be but I was a mechanic back in Twelve so I'm hoping there's some transferable skills at least."

" depends how quickly you can throw back what's on your tray. you can easily squeeze in an extra five minutes for some tears. everything lately has been a bit more than spilled milk, so it's overdue. todd and derrick over there will just make it faster, " ezra remarks. but it's the last he'll make a joke of it, even klair knows when material has gone past its prime. soon he'll learn just how terrible it's been for her once district number is uttered. dimpled smile is ever present as the stranger's hand takes his. the handshake is firm, the way his father used to bark on about. there's a brief falter as suddenly the infamous twelfth district is mentioned. he'd only heard of the carnage, aspen lived through the devastation.

dark eyes look at the ink on his arm, as though the schedule wasn't already in memory. " combat training for me. several hours. then i get back to working the kitchen afterwards. what about you ? or have they given twelve a well deserved breather ? " ezra is genuinely curious. he's quick to add the following, " i'm sorry to hear about your district. happy you and others made it safely here. " the names gale hawthorne and cael mellark are fresh in his mind. six hundred might only be a smaller chunk of the former population, but it was nonetheless impressive that the pair could lead so many to safety. the additional several hundred is felt on the premise of district thirteen. volume is louder. halls are fuller. he wonders how many sleeping quarters are available and which districts will be next in finding refuge here. it's only the beginning ; hopefully, thea will be here even sooner.

[aspenxbarros]

Thirteen Kitchens || @caelmellark

The adjustment to life in Thirteen had become slightly easier once she had something to fill her time, her hours now mostly spent keeping her hands busy with some kind of mechanics. Feeling useful outside of playing at emotional support. But even though she had settled slightly Aspen still found her nights were restless despite the weariness that she felt. Not wanting to keep her roommate up with her tossing and turning she'd slipped out as silently as she could, going in search of the one person she knew would manage to quiet her mind without even trying. His schedule was as familiar to her as her own so she knew exactly where to start. As she quietly padded through the kitchen towards him, she cleared her throat slightly to announce her presence. "I'm guessing that even if I ask really nicely a midnight snack is off the table?" Tone was light and innocent, eyes widening pleadingly in a way she knew he'd struggle to say no to. Perhaps it was a little unfair when she suspected the obstacle would be on the end of Thirteen and their strict rules on provisions as opposed to her friend's willingness. But food hadn't been the purpose of her visit, his company was, and a little teasing provided the lightening of her mood that she so desperately needed.

[aspenxbarros]

Four days after Twelve's bombing || The Woods || @caelmellark

For days - or at least she assumed enough hours had passed to equal days - all she had known was darkness and fear. She had once liked to consider herself among the courageous but being starkly of her own mortality had doused any notions of bravery that she had left. When they finally managed to dig their way out after what had felt like a futile endeavour, Aspen was faced with bright sunlight illuminating the ruins that had once been her home. In that moment all everything faded away and she was left with knowing two things were true- they had to keep moving and there was nothing left for them amongst the rubble. She assumes the uncomfortable mantel of leader once more and suggests that they move towards the wood for shelter. No one argues with her ( she's almost certain that they're just too tired to ) and the group begins to shuffle in stunned silence towards the trees.

As they walked the shock wore off enough that she became more aware of her own body. There was blood trickling down from the shallow cut on her forehead, threatening to obscure her vision. She wiped it away impatiently before wiping her hand on her already dirty trousers, adding blood to the dust and grime that had built up. Her ankle was struggling to bear her own weight after she twisted it in the dark but she had still offered her shoulder to another to help them make the trip, ignoring how it protested with every step she took. It was far from the first time she had had to reject her body's pleading with her to rest and so it was almost too easy for her to keep putting one foot in front of the other even if she had no final destination in mind.

Eventually it felt as though they had walked far enough that they could take a moment and so she gently helps her fellow survivor to the ground before she leans against the tree herself. The fast pace of her breathing matches the speed with which her mind is racing as she tries to plan their next move.

[aspenxbarros]

Near the medical ward || Day 25 of the Rebellion || with Yazmin Silverhorn @fatefought

It'd hadn't taken her long to fall back oh so easily back into old ways, taken it upon herself to be there for others just the same way that she and her family had in Twelve. While she would never have it any other way - the Barros blood flowed too strongly in her veins for her to ever want anything else - there was no denying that it was mentally and emotionally exhausting. There was only so long she could continue to put off her own needs, especially when her own nights were becoming sleepless with an increasing frequency. Her mother and uncle had always warned her that she had to take care of herself before she could properly take care of another. Despite her desire to continually put others above herself, she'd always seen the logic in it and knew that she would hardly be of use to anyone if she was barely functioning.

But while it was always so easy for her to hold out a hand to others, she was always be reluctant to take their helping hands. She knew that she could go to her mother or cousin but they were just as busy as she was and there were only so many hours Cael could give her. Something needed to give though and that was how after yet another night where she'd spent too many hours tossing and turning, Aspen had found herself heading towards the medical bay. Only she found herself hesitating outside when she still felt as though she would just be taking attention from those who needed it more. The sound of footsteps made her start slightly when she hadn't been expecting anyone else at that hour but she smiles when she sees a face she recognised.

She'd like Yazmin the few times they'd met and so it wasn't through lack of trust but rather out of habit she can't help but downplay her situation. "I feel like I'm becoming nocturnal - you a night owl too?" Words are said lightly hoping if she added some levity it might steer them into other topics long enough for her to gather her will to go in.

[aspenxbarros]

Light hum is given in response to his joking about Thirteen, finding it impossible not to agree with him. Thirteen had its merits and she would always be grateful that it had open its doors to her and the rest of her district but that didn't mean she thought it was perfect. That much is obvious from the dry words she gives him in reply. "Oh of course they will, I'm sure that they'd love to make as many changes as we asked them to. After all, they're just so flexible."

For all her joking, Aspen had to concede that their rules and restrictions were understandable, the logic of them easy enough to follow once you realised the reality of life in Thirteen. But that hadn't made them any either to adjust to. Twelve had had its own limitations but she'd felt freer there. The thought brings a tightening of her chest as there's a now familiar pang of grief over the home that she lost and has no real hope of going back too any time soon. Perhaps one day but that felt like a dangerous hope in itself.

But her brief moment of solemn reflection is broken by Finnick speaking again and if she had still been undecided about him, her mind was made up the moment he introduced himself. It might have been wholly unnecessary ( a fact she suspect he knew ) but she finds it almost endearing and telling of his character. "I'm sure we haven't." The words are light, teasing slightly before she introduces herself. "Aspen."

It wasn't as if Finnick were completely oblivious to the struggles of District 13 and the limits those with real jobs had to work within. He knew he had been especially privileged since arriving. Had it of been anyone else shirking their responsibilities (save for a very select few), or show blatant disregard for the rigid structures and guidelines that kept the District running like a fine-tuned machine, he knew it was unlikely they would be cut the same slack he had. So he wasn't particularly surprised at the sharpness of her initial response.

If anything, the man found it to be amusing, but perhaps that was because he had been so starved of entertainment or genuine human interaction. Something of a smirk found its way onto his face as he pushed the dry cubes of chicken around on his plate with his fork.

"No? You don't think so? What gives you that idea?" Finnick joked, tone light. "I'm sure they'd love to have our honest feedback and would really take it into consideration." He turned his attention from the tray before his companion. As her expression softened, he felt a little bit better about having disturbed her. Now that he had gotten a better look at her, Finnick was sure he had seen her around, but he couldn't recall a name. Even through the fuzzy memories of his first few weeks in 13, he knew it was likely that they had not met before.

"I'm not sure we've met," he said, sharing his observation. He knew the introduction would surely be unnecessary. There was probably not a soul in that cafeteria who couldn't pick him out of the crowd, but it felt weird, almost rude, to not introduce himself formally. "I'm Finnick. Nice to meet you."

[aspenxbarros]

Homesickness had hit her hard, even though she knew that the home she longed for no longer existed and she found herself struggling to adjust to her supposed new home. It felt almost ungrateful to be so uncertain of how she felt about Thirteen when she knew that it was partially because of their intervention that any of her district had survived at all. There was a sense of uneasiness that she couldn't shake but she suspected it had far more to do with being away from her home for the first time than anything else. That or the building restlessness she felt over feeling so confined, regularly having to push down growing panic when the close quarters and corridors of Thirteen reminded her a little too much of the mine she had been trapped in.

If she had still been in Twelve she'd liked have sought solace in her community, all the friends and neighbours she considered family. But when they had all lost so much Aspen had found herself playing the role of consoler rather than comforter, unwilling to burden anyone when they were all struggling as much as she was. Besides, the Barros family had always been strong and her slim shoulders had always been sturdy enough to bear the weight of others' troubles as well as her own. So she paced the corridors, hoping that physical exhaustion might push her to sleep so she wouldn't have to toss and turn in an unfamiliar bed for another night.

Her movements had been aimless, no set destination in mind just hoping that her mindless strides would distract her. The brief reverie she adopted was quickly ended by a voice, causing her to blink a few times to process what had happened. "No, at least not in mine. I think I'd have to be going somewhere for that."

When: Day 8 after the Arena Break out

Where: Corridor outside of Cadence's room

Who: Cadie and open to all in 13

It felt strange. She was still getting used to District 13. She supposed she'd only had 2 days to actually get used to it. The first six days of her time here had been spent locked up. Then she'd been following Ezra around like a little lost sheep. She supposed it could have been worse. She could have been assigned to someone else. It was quite lucky to actually be assigned to her father. It meant she was also rooming next to him. And well, that was also a blessing in disguise. She wanted to be close to him. Especially since Thea was so far away. She still felt guilty about that. About her family that she had left behind in the Capitol. They didn't deserve that. Not when she was here, in relative freedom. It didn't feel fair.

And that was why she was here, sat outside her room. She didn't know why she had sat here. She could have walked around, but she was still finding herself getting lost, and hadn't wanted to wonder too far away from Ezra. She didn't want to get in trouble, and get sent back to that cell after all. Hearing foot steps the brunette looked up.

"I hope I'm not in the way." Not that she would've moved if she was. There was plenty of room to get around her.

[aspenxbarros]

Reading people had always been one of her skills. She couldn't say if it was one that she'd been born with or just an innate talent that she shared with the rest of her family. Her uncle always knew just what to say and her mother had a way of always knowing just what they needed. She liked to think that she might have inherited both of those trait or at the very least, she'd taught herself them over the years so that they came easily most of the time. She wants to study Katniss' face now, to let her gaze linger and try to discern the thoughts that are going through her mind but she resists the temptation even though her only motive is to know her better. To understand so that she might be able to help. But she's almost certain that the younger woman has been scrutinised enough to last her a lifetime, it's an assumption but Aspen figured that the last thing she'd want would be to feel the weight of someone's gaze heavily on her again.

Instead she settles for listening carefully to what is said, reading behind the lines that she's given to try to piece together a full picture from the fragments she'd been given. Katniss had been through the unimaginable but it wasn't a mystery to her when she'd had to watch it play out on screen, instead Aspen was left wondering what life had been like since then. How did you find your way back after that? Especially because she'd been moved from the only home she'd ever known and put outside the loop of the people she'd grown up around. Detached from her community by both distance and having gone through something none of the rest of them had. There's sympathy felt at the thought, knowing how it would likely make her own heart ache if she'd found herself in that position, but she does her best to keep it from her features. She hummed lightly in acknowledgement at the younger woman's desire to still be part of things, or at least mark occasions in some way. "I can let you know about any more, if you want." It's a gentle offer, said with a tone that implies no judgement on either her lack of knowledge or if she was to decline. She glosses over it with dry words, laughter in her tone. "Though I'm not sure when the next one will be, there's a few boys who seem determined to be bachelors. Commitment is clearly terrifying."

"Sure." There's a warm firmness to the word, knowing that she'd been given an out but refusing to take it. "I'd be heading that direction eventually, anyway. I usually stop in and see Dot at some point but there's no rush." Her elderly neighbour was the closest thing to a grandmother that she had but they never had set times for her visits nor did she think that the other woman would begrudge her missing a night, as long as it was made up in the next couple of days. "I'll do just about anything put off her questions for when it's going to be my turn to go down that aisle a little while longer." There was a light roll of her eyes given, fondness had been clear in her tone but so had exasperation.

the image is sure to spark plenty of memories. hadn't she sat gladly on the porch of the everdeen shack while her mother, sometimes her father, and once or twice, aspen herself, had worked through her hair? hadn't she done the same to primrose and posy? two instead of one, most times, like the ones aspen still sports. it's hard to keep her face blank or turned downwards, the way it usually does, at the sight of something so innocent, something that seems almost detached from her now. naturally, the smile fades at her resigned place of otherness among those that once had been what she equaled to herself and was equaled by others the most. she's something else now, a victor, with a shiny new house in the village. not that any of this shit matters. "i recall." buck is some years older than she is, but kids around their age always took to dancing with one another in weddings, creating an assembly of twirling and boot stomping that was the best company to the sound of fiddle and her father's clear, melodic voice. since he died, the neighborhood haven't been able to replace him with a better singer, but at times they still borrow the fiddle and play, the way weddings are supposed to be done. 

"he's ordered somethin' from mother." katniss announces, bringing a hand to her game bag, now serving as a container for all the containers for medicine she's been delivering. "i didn't know of the wedding, so i brought to his, and his ma said he moved to daisy's." since daisy is the eldest in her house, and buck one of the younger, it made sense; he'd be able to support his in-laws like this and help daisy raise the rest of the runt. usually, she'd have absorbed this kind of talk from afternoons spent with hazelle, but those days have soured after that one sunday with gale, and it seems katniss has lost track of how long she's spent away from the hawthorne house. she takes a sharp intake of breath, hissing. "would'a brought 'em some kinda gift, if we'd know." not that this is the kind of thing they do, but what else can she do with all that money? at some point, it all becomes kind of useless (something that she had never thought of, of course, giving haymitch a stink eye as all she ever saw the richest man in twelve buy around city was booze. isn't it fucking sad she understands haymitch now?).

"if you got the time," there's an offer to back out there, in the careful way she says it, drawing out the words even if aspen has already volunteered her time. "d'ya mind takin' me where they livin'? i don't think i've been."

[aspenxbarros]

After what had felt like endless days in the dark nothing felt really normal to her, even just being outside felt odd to her. She felt a new uncertainty about the world when it felt like everything that she'd used to centre herself, everything that had made up her life up until now, had been taken away. Almost everything. Arms remained around Cael, using him as the anchor to tether herself back to reality and pull her back into herself. The resolve that had been beginning to waver in the face of hopelessness came flickering back in, his presence alone enough to spark more hope in her.

Huff of air leaves her lips in something like an echo of a laugh, eyes narrowing slightly in a weak imitation of her usual warning look. "You don't look that great either, Mellark." The words are more of a grumble than anything else, lacking the faux warning edge that they might have had any other time. Instead she just gives him a weak smile and tries not to let herself get overcome with gratefulness that he was even there for them to be able still playfully bicker.

His hand goes to her head to inspect the wound she'd known was there and her hand slips up his arm to rest over it, needing more contact between them as if she needs further proof he's real. He's gentle, despite all his gruffness but she'd never once thought him incapable of tenderness. Just reluctant to show softness in a world that had so rarely showed him anything but harshness. "You're right-" Nose wrinkled slightly, both at the idea of what was needed and also having to begrudging admit that her friend had a point. "- I'm not gonna like it."

There's a brief frown of confusion that settles on her brow as she processed his words, figuring out what she should have already put together - that he wasn't the only other survivor. "So there's more of you?" The news feels like a relief at first - a miracle even when she hadn't dared to hope that there'd be more - but as it settles in it becomes daunting. Another burden to add to her shoulders that are already struggling to bear the weight. Guilt is felt almost immediately when she felt like gratitude should be the overwhelming emotion that takes hold of her. They were lucky to be alive and lucky that their entire district hadn't been ended the way that the Capitol clearly intended it to be.

"Hawthorne, huh? Sound like you've made a new friend." Brow raised slightly, a lightness to her words that she doesn't really feel but when she'd caught the roughness in Cael's voice, known what it meant despite words unsaid, and wanted to give him the option to smooth it over. She wanted to linger in their reunion a little longer but she'd never been able to ignore the world around her and the people in it so she can't help but ask what's next. "Have you two come up with a plan? Do I need to do anything because I'm fine, really, I can help."

These past couple of days, he had felt like a ship in the night, unable to see, battered by the waves. And as more time passed, he reveled in the fact he hadn't been smashed upon the rocks yet, so lost at sea, he didn't know which way was shore. But then, there she was, a lighthouse flashing it's light, letting him skirt the coast so he could maybe one day make it home.

Because, before he had seen her through the trees, with his parents, his brother, his nieces and nephews dead and gone, Peeta god knows where having god knows what done to him, and the only place he had ever known in ruins, Cael wasn't sure he'd ever know the meaning of 'home' again. But then, there she was, in his arms, Alive. Well, or well enough, and for the first time in four days, Cael found himself able to breathe.

He'd be lying if it all didn't feel a bit like a dream, and he wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't. He wasn't used to life doing him favors, and the one who was smearing blood and snot and god knows what else on him, was the biggest favor of all. --- He didn't have a clue in hell how long they stood there, but he was too afraid to let go of his best friend, feeling that if he did, he might be proven right, and this dream would turn into some horrible nightmare, like the ones that had been plaguing him in his few moments of stolen sleep.

But Aspen was always the braver of the two, and she was the first to pull away. "Holy shit, you're a mess." were the first words out of his mouth as he looked at her, covered in soot and blood and mud. Although, he wasn't sure he looked much better, probably covered in soot and mud and other people's blood. "That's what happens when you have a head wound," he responded gruffly, his hands leaving their previous placement on her back to gently prod at the wound. He was no famous Everdeen Healer, but with the way his life had went, he knew his way around an injury, and found himself inspecting Aspen's closely. "You ain't gonna like it, but I think you need a needle and thread through this thing. Gotta clean it too." He figured in the 600 of them, someone had the supplies to do it, and he'd fight them for it if he had to.

"Only my sanity having to deal with fuckin' Hawthorne these past four days." He was so overwhelmed by what he was feeling, he found it near on impossible to deal with the sentimentality of it all, and answered in jest, although the gravel in his voice betrayed exactly how he was feeling.

[aspenxbarros]

She knew better than most that home was more than just a place, it was people too. After all, hadn't her little house in the Seam been made a home by her neighbours as much as her family? So when the homesickness had hit that night and the walls of her room had felt as though they were closing in on her again, she'd gone in search of Cael. If anyone could distract her or put her at ease without trying it would be him. It was the only kind of comfort she could bring herself to accept when she had been set politely declining everyone else's, refusing to add to their troubles in anyway. But her best friend didn't have to try to make her feel better, his presence alone would always be enough.

Thirteen was still something of a maze to her as much as she consistently made an effort to get her bearings. She'd known the Seam like the back of her hand, it was a part of her so she knew it was unrealistic to expect to be able to navigate in her new surrounds with the same ease. But the one place she had managed to find the fastest route to was the kitchens.

But as she entered them, it wasn't the familiar face she'd expected to see that she was met with. Eyes and voice are equally soft as she replies, as quick to try to reassure as ever. "You don't need to apologise; there's no need to rush on my account."

She found herself wishing that she had some kind of handkerchief to hand over but instead Aspen has to stand lamely and figure out her next move. Sympathetic smile is aimed the younger woman's way, testing out a small amount of familiarity and wondering if it would bring any comfort. "It's Delly, right?"

Setting: district 13 kitchen Delly and open

Delly had never felt so lost.

It had only been a few days since she had left the Capitol and even fewer days since she had learned that Twelve and her parents were gone and Peeta was missing and yet it felt like it had been a year. Every time Dirk looked at her he expected her to know what to do or what to say to make everything better, but Delly couldn't make this better. She had never had to be a parent to her brother and she hadn't realized how hard it would be. One moment Dirk was fine, following Gale around in a way that made her almost smile, and the next he was sobbing in her arms. Delly refused to cry in front of Dirk, she wasn't going to burden him with her own grief.

She had been quick to volunteer herself to help out everywhere, it seemed that that was what they expected of them in Thirteen, but secretly she was glad to have something to keep her mind off of everything that had happened. It was especially hard for her when her thoughts went to Peeta. Peeta...how did this happen? How had they left him behind? Delly felt so angry and sad and she didn't know what to do or who to hit or scream at.

They left Peeta behind. She had left Peeta behind. And her parents. She could never forgive herself.

A few tears fell from her cheeks as she stood in the kitchen biting down on her lip, trying to control herself. She couldn't cry in the District Thirteen kitchen. At least she was alone.

But then there was a rustle behind her and she whirled around.

"I'm sorry I thought I was alone," she quickly wiped at her cheeks. "Give me a minute and I'll be ready to go."

[aspenxbarros]

If his first words had encouraged her, given her relief that there was something that she could contribute, it's his simple query that has her questioning it again. Honesty had never been something that she struggled with, feeling that the truth was always more beneficial than lies, so she doesn't quite hesitate with candour this time but rather worries that it might work against her. It was probably an unfounded concern but nonetheless one that the little voice in the back of her head can't help but niggle at her.

It's pushed to the side quickly, she was there to learn and how would anyone be able to tech her with no real sense of her level of skill? Besides, if her words didn't give her away she was fairly certain that the way her eyes had widened and rounded at the sight of the inside of the hovercraft certainly would have. "Nothing this advanced." The words are matter of fact and in truth she wasn't overwhelmed by it, at least not in a way that made her nervous. If anything she was overwhelmed with the possibilities, excited by what she might be able to learn.

Nod is given to Beetee's question but her eyes are still trailing over the interior, mind trying to piece together what each part might do, the whole thing a puzzle that was begging her to solve it. "Sometimes cars but mostly trucks, a couple of draglines and dozers." There's a slight pause as she thinks of home ( she'd gotten used to ignoring the ache in her chest that came when she did, accepting it as permanent but bearable ) and a smile flickers briefly over her lips, followed by a slight shrug. "We didn't have all that much."

" that'll serve the cause well. they can always utilize more mechanics here, especially when missions continue, " beetee remarks. he's unsure of the objectives of each to come, but there's repetition at play. each mission also entails more refugees adding to the headcount here in thirteen. there's no time for casual wear and tear. the next objective is district eight, which will begin in days time.

hovercrafts aren't quite his speciality. transportation as a whole was something that beetee actively avoided back when he'd have his first opportunities to explore tech outside of three. still in his years, beetee had gotten his hands greasy with the capitol's preferred form of transportation a few times over. enough that he feels comfortable being here, and clicking the underwhelming button that causes the ship's entrance to open. " after you, " he offers, extending a hand out towards it.

the vehicle comes alight as soon as the door opens. buttons glow, there's a buzzing. for something he doesn't have much interest in, he can acknowledge the technological intrigue in such a marvel. his shoes clack as he walks towards the control panel. " what sort of machinery was your expertise in twelve then ? i assume it would do with the mines. "

[aspenxbarros]

There's a new warmth to his smile and it makes her feel slightly less like a stranger to him. She had never been the type to feel overly awkward, too quietly self assured to feel self conscious, but if there had been any tinge of feeling at a loss of what to say or do, it all but vanished at the sparkle in his eyes. "Yeah?" Brown eyes are bright with curiosity as her gaze flickers up at him again, realising that she wanted to know him.

She'd always be curious about Cael's family but this isn't just a desire to fill in some hazy parts in her friend's life, it's a more genuine. She supposes that he's had plenty of people suddenly spark an interest in getting to know him since the Games but it's not really the Victor she's interested in. Though they're one and the same. The smile on her lips is soft, almost encouraging, "They your favourites?"

"Sure." There was no real rush on her end, other than wanting to be out of his hair so she wasn't keeping them open longer than needed. While she waited, gaze flickered over the bakery but didn't focus on anything in particular when she was too preoccupied in making a mental note of the stops she still had to make. He comes back and her gaze is on his face again, grateful smile flashed his way as she takes the bag from him. "Thank you."

Focus shifts to the cake then, eyeing the various different icing that had been laid out for her. She hums slightly, light and playful, before making her selection. "I have it on good authority that purple is the real only choice."

Aspen agrees to the cake and Peeta's smile turns from the friendly please enjoy shopping here to something more genuine, his eyes sparkling. He spends his time on the cakes and only about half get sold before spoiling. It has gotten to the point that he only decorates a couple for the displays, the rest are ordered ahead of time because his mother was tired of the wasted ingredients.

She asks about fitting the words, tells him it's okay to rush her, but Peeta shakes his head. "I like when people are interested in the cakes," he tells her, though he's not sure why he admits it. Maybe it's because of his brother and the soft spot Cael has for her. Maybe it's because he now has his own Seam girl to think about, even if he's pretty sure she's not thinking about him.

"Let me grab those loaves for you first, I'll be right back." He goes to the back of the shop to check the stash and there's barely enough with a couple left over. A good haul. Mother will be pleased they won't have many day-olds left over for tomorrow. He bags them and brings them back to her, the limp a bit more defined now that he's carrying something and has been standing on it all day.

He hands her the bag across the counter and then bends down to gently remove the small cake from the display, turning to grab a couple of colors for the writing. He lays them out in front of her on the counter. "Any preference?"